


You're My Best Friend

by chvotic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Bed-Wetting, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hopeful Ending, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Might be Out of Character, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Poisoning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Harry Potter, Sleep Deprivation, The Golden Trio, Vomiting, i don't care, very brief - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chvotic/pseuds/chvotic
Summary: There were deep, black bags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves looked haunted and panicked. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, which was also visible down the front and under the armpits of Harry’s shirt.When their eyes met, Harry seemed to choke on a sob.“Ron?”Or5 times Ron was there for Harry (+1 the time he wasn't)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 216





	You're My Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> **trigger warnings for fic - self harm, implied depression, very brief implied suicide attempt**
> 
> this is my first harry potter fanficiton i've ever posted, and it's a vent.
> 
> i haven't read the books in 6 or so years, so things will be off, and i'm basically going off of the movie's timeline. the dates will probably be wrong, since i picked random months for a few since i didn't know where they would occur in the canon timeline, so please don't comment about it. as i said, this is a vent fic, and i'd rather not have people correcting me on it.
> 
> also, they all might be out of character... but idc :D joanne can get fucked they're my characters now <3333
> 
> anyways, to whoever decides to read this, enjoy the angst and hermione and ron being the greatest friends ever <3

**1\. August 1995, 12 Grimmauld Place**

When Ron awoke, it was to the sound of someone yelling out.

He laid there, thoroughly confused as to where it had come from. When nothing happened and the room remained silent, Ron settled back into the mattress and was ready to pass it off as a part of his dream. However, just before he fell back into unconsciousness, another shout echoed around the room. This one was louder than the first.

Ron sat up in a flash, mostly because the noise had startled him into full alertness. He searched the room for the source of the noise and was not surprised to find his answer when his gaze found his best friend.

Ron felt himself begin to panic. He had no idea how to comfort people.

His older brothers had always comforted him when he was feeling down or had a nightmare, and the only sibling he’d really experienced being an older brother with was Ginny. However, Ginny seemed to prefer the comfort of their mother over anybody else.

But this wasn’t one of his siblings. This was his best friend, the one who always bottled his emotions up for far too long. Harry had never really been an overly emotional person, or rather, he never really let people see how he was feeling. Until the third task.

Ron shivered at the image of Harry sobbing over Cedric’s motionless body, and immediately pushed it away before it made him feel sick.

After a few moments’ hesitation, Ron threw back his covers and got out of bed. Harry let out another shout, though it sounded more like a sob this time, face screwed up in pain. Or anguish, Ron couldn’t really tell. Maybe it was both.

When Ron was stood above his friend, he could hear him much clearer. Among the whimpers and broken shouts, Harry was saying words, however it was almost incoherent.

“No… no. Cedric.” Ron winced. “C-Cedric.”

With a deep breath, Ron set his hand on either side of Harry’s shoulders. “Harry, mate. It’s only a dream. You’ve got to wake up.”

Harry tensed under his touch for a moment before he began to writhe even more violently, another sob and several broken sentences tumbling from the boy’s lips as he thrashed beneath Ron’s touch. Ron wished Harry would wake up soon, he couldn’t stand watching him in pain like this.

“Harry.” Ron said again and shook Harry’s shoulders as gentle as he could. “It’s just a nightmare.”

“No.” Harry moaned. “N-no.”

“Harry!” Ron said a little louder this time. “Harry, mate. It’s okay. It’s not real.”

Ron couldn’t begin to imagine the horrors that were going on inside of Harry’s head right now. Whatever he had seen in the graveyard had changed him.

His best mate looked… blank, all the time, aside from the random bursts of anger he had every now and then. Ron could tell Harry was bottling like he always did, which was dangerous. Hermione thought the same and was even more concerned than Ron. When she had tried to comfort Harry a few days ago, Harry had snapped at her so venomously that even Ron had been shocked.

Since then, Harry had barely spoken to them. It was obvious he felt guilty, given the way every time he looked at Hermione, it looked like he wanted to cry.

Ron couldn’t watch Harry suffer any longer. He shook Harry’s shoulders harder, desperate for his best friend to awaken. It did the trick, because seconds later, Harry’s eyes had snapped open. However, they were filled with blind panic, and since Ron had removed his hands from the other teen’s shoulders, Harry sat up and his fist flew.

Ron ducked just in time to miss his friend’s wayward swing; eyes wide as Harry scrambled around in his bed. His limbs were tangled in his bedsheets, which only seemed to increase the panic. Harry was crying louder now, loud enough that the others might be able to hear him. Ron stood there, paralysed as he watched his friend struggle to free himself.

“Harry.” Immediately, Harry’s head snapped to him. “It’s just me. It’s Ron. You were having a nightmare.”

Harry stared at him for a long time. Ron’s figure was probably just a dark mass, since Harry wasn’t wearing his glasses and the lighting was poor. At this thought, Ron moved over to his own bed and flicked the lamp on his bedside table on, then winced from the sudden brightness.

When he turned back to Harry, he winced at how terrible he looked. Harry was a ghostly pale tone, cheeks shining with tears. There were deep, black bags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves looked haunted and panicked. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, which was also visible down the front and under the armpits of Harry’s shirt.

When their eyes met, Harry seemed to choke on a sob.

“R-on?” Harry’s voice cracked in the middle of the three-letter word.

“Hey mate.” Ron tried to smile, but he knew it came out as more of a grimace. He slowly made his way over to Harry, who was still tangled in his blankets. Channelling his older-brother instincts to the best of his ability, he sat down on the bed a few inches away from Harry and focussed his gaze on him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry started shaking his head before Ron even finished the sentence. Then, he fell forward and buried his face in his hands, another broken sob heaving from his chest. Ron watched the way Harry’s shoulders shuddered with the attempts to keep his sobs at bay, and the way his hands trembled.

Shuffling a little closer, Ron wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. At first, Harry tensed, but soon relaxed and let out another shuddering sob. Now that Ron was touching him, he could feel every tremor and jolt that tore from Harry’s body in his efforts to keep everything in. Ron, once again, had no idea what to do.

Ginny had never been so distraught before, at least when in Ron’s presence. After the diary, she had stayed glued to their mother’s side. Ron didn’t even get the chance to try and comfort her, so right now, with Harry, he had no idea if he was doing things right. What if he was making Harry feel worse?

His thoughts came to a halt when ever so slowly, Harry turned sideways and reached out to grip onto Ron’s shirt. Then, as if all the energy had left his body to the point he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he fell forwards into Ron’s shoulder and let out the most agonising sob Ron had ever heard. It was close to a wail, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how bad the dream had been to gain a reaction like this.

“Oh, Harry…” Ron trailed as he wrapped his other arm around his sweaty friend. He must be doing something right, because Harry melted into the touch. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

The words, however, didn’t seem to be helping Harry calm down.

“Um… do you want me to get Sirius?”

Harry shook his head and clutched Ron tighter. Ron just nodded and began to rub Harry’s back. He’d seen Fred and George rub Ginny’s back before, so maybe it would help Harry as well.

He had no idea if it was working, because Harry cried for a long time, long enough for Ron’s own back to start hurting from the awkward position he was sat in. Eventually, though, Harry cried himself out, though his head didn’t move from Ron’s shoulder. Now, Harry was mostly silent, aside from the occasional sharp intakes of air.

“Are you okay?”

Harry shrugged. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t worry, mate.” Ron patted Harry’s back a little awkwardly. “It’s not your fault.”

More silence.

“Do you want to lie down?” Ron asked after a while. Harry nodded, the movement stiff, then pulled away from Ron. Harry looked as terrible as he had before, tears and snot smeared over his face which he wiped at with his hand. If Ron looked on his shirt, he was sure he’d find a wet patch there.

Harry looked even more tired than he had half an hour ago, and it made Ron’s heart clench. Never, despite everything they had been through together, had he seen his best friend look so wrecked. So traumatised.

Harry’s body shook so much it looked like it hurt. Ron shifted a little so Harry could lay down; worried gaze fixed on the trembling body in front of him. Harry didn’t look at him the entire time, eyes looking like they were still watering.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get someone?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

“Think you can get back to sleep?”

“T-think so.” Harry wiped his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“’Course. Goodnight.”

Ron patted Harry’s shoulder, then got up and retreated over to his own bed. When he was comfortably snugged under his blankets, the light switched off, Ron turned on his side to face Harry. In the moonlight shining through the window, Ron could see that Harry was facing him, but not looking at him. More so, he had curled up, face buried in his blanket.

Ron couldn’t sleep while Harry was suffering just across from him.

Flicking on the light, Ron sat up and threw his blankets back. “Harry.”

Harry looked up at the sound of his name, tired eyes drooping for a moment.

Ron didn’t say anything and gestured to the space he had made beside him. Harry hesitated for a total of two seconds before he got out of his bed and padded across the room. He slipped into the bed silently, and Ron pulled the covers up to cover his friend to his shoulders.

Ron turned off his lamp and looked back to Harry. Harry’s eyes were shut, head bent forwards a little as his body trembled like a leaf.

“Alright?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “Thanks, Ron.”

Ron waited until Harry was asleep before letting himself drift off.

The next time Ron opened his eyes, light shone in from the cracks between the curtains, and someone else was in the room.

Hermione sat on the edge of their bed, eyes filled with concern as her gaze flickered between Ron and Harry. Harry, who must have started clinging onto Ron in his sleep, looked even paler under the natural light.

“Good morning.” Hermione said after a while. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.” Ron said truthfully. “He had a nightmare last night. It was bad.”

Hermione nodded, then leant forwards to rest a hand on the top of Harry’s hair, which even though it had been cut much shorter than the previous year, was still a mess. Harry shifted a little under the touch, but otherwise didn’t react and continued to cling onto Ron. He watched Hermione card her fingers through Harry’s hair, unsure what to do or say.

“We should wake him up. Breakfast is ready.”

Ron just nodded.

After gentle prodding’s from Hermione and a few shakes from Ron, Harry’s green eyes made an appearance. For a moment, the boy looked confused as he looked up at Ron and then to Hermione, before the realisation dawned on him. Immediately, Ron saw him close himself off as he detached from Ron and sat up.

“Good morning, Harry.” Hermione began. Ron wondered if she’d noticed the change like he had. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Harry tried to smile, clearly, but it looked more manic than genuine. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Breakfast is ready.” Ron sat up as well as Hermione spoke. Despite the smile on her pretty face, Ron could see the worry in her eyes. When Harry nodded and got out of bed, Hermione and Ron shared a worried look. He watched Harry quickly change shirts before he practically dashed from the room, not looking at them once. “He’s not okay.”

“I know.” Ron sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I heard him crying, Ron. Last night.” Hermione looked troubled. “I was going to come in, but it seemed you had it handled. I’ve never heard him cry like that before. Well, since the third task, I mean.”

“Me too.” Ron murmured, then shook his head. “Bloody hell. I can’t believe I thought he willingly put his name in that bloody goblet.”

“Come on, Ronald. There’s no use dwelling.” Hermione got up. “Breakfast.”

“Alright, alright.” Ron smiled a little, and when she left the room, he let it fall.

Ron had never been more worried for his best friend in his life.

**2\. April 1996, Gryffindor Tower**

Ever since that night, Ron noticed more things about Harry. The way he’d shy away from everyone’s, even Sirius’ sometimes, touches, or the way immediate regret would dawn on his face when he snapped at someone.

It had been a few months since they had returned to Hogwarts, and Ron could tell his friend was suffering. Especially after Seamus made his views known.

Harry had snapped at Ron that night, too. Harry had definitely changed since last year, and Ron cursed himself repeatedly for not realising it sooner. Ever since Ron had comforted Harry after that nightmare, the other boy seemed to keep his distance as if he were embarrassed.

Until one night, when he noticed the tears that filled Harry’s eyes after Hermione scolded him for not doing his homework. Ron could see the way Harry’s left hand twitched, which was scarred from Umbridge’s cruel detentions, and could tell that something else was bothering him.

“Harry?” Hermione questioned when the boy didn’t respond to her question. “Are you even listening to me?”

“ _Yes_ , Hermione. I’m listening.” Harry snapped; voice filled with venom. Ron flinched, and so did Hermione. Immediately, Harry seemed to shrink in on himself, hands disappearing beneath the table after he dropped his quill. For a moment, none of them spoke. Hermione looked hurt at Harry’s rudeness, but the worry was clear. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s apology was timid. Scared.

“It’s quite alright.” Hermione rested her hand on Harry’s shoulder, and neither she nor Ron missed the way he flinched at the contact. Now that Harry’s head was bowed, Ron couldn’t get a full view of the look on his face, or the tears that were in his eyes. “Let me read this over for you. I’ll give you some corrections. Is that alright?”

Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

Hermione didn’t say anything, but her eyes lingered. Without a hitch, she began to read over Harry’s potions essay as if nothing had happened.

Ron, aware of Harry’s quick and fragile temper, kept his mouth shut. He too went back to pretending to do his homework, trying to give Harry space. Harry didn’t even move, he just continued to stare at his lap as Hermione fixed his essay for him.

When Hermione handed the corrected essay to Harry, he didn’t smile. Ron wasn’t sure when the last time Harry smiled even was.

“Thanks, ‘Mione.”

“Of course, Harry.” Hermione also didn’t smile. “I’m going to head up to bed. Goodnight, boys.”

“Night.” Ron and Harry said at the same time. Ron watched Hermione hesitate, before she kissed the side of Harry’s head and rubbed his back with a gentle hand.

Maybe, if this had been any other situation, Ron would be jealous that Harry was the receiver of Hermione’s affection. Right now, however, when he saw the way Harry’s expression faltered from the gentle touch, Ron couldn’t find it in him to be jealous. Harry clearly needed the comfort he’d been avoiding since they got back to school.

Hermione just smiled sadly at Ron and clenched his shoulder before she disappeared up the stairs to the girl’s dorms. Now that they were alone, aside from a few eighth years studying on the other side of the room, it was just Harry and Ron.

“Want to play some chess?” Ron asked after it was clear Harry wasn’t going to rewrite his essay that night. For the first time since he’d snapped at Hermione, Harry looked up, and nodded. His eyes were still gleaming, but Ron pretended not to notice as he shoved his homework away and grabbed the chess set. “Alright. You first.”

Playing chess seemed to cheer Harry up somewhat, even though he lost every time. Eventually, both boys headed up to the dorms when they grew tired of the game. Harry disappeared into the bathroom and Ron busied himself with getting changed. Seamus and Dean were still awake, conversing almost silently on the other side of the room where they both sat on Dean’s bed. Neville, however, had already passed out behind his curtains.

When Harry entered the room again, he didn’t look at anyone. He got changed, got into bed and closed his curtains without a goodnight. Ron frowned, but headed into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth.

By the time he returned, Seamus had retreated to his own bed. Ron didn’t look at either of them as he got into bed and turned on his side to face Harry’s side of the room.

Soon enough, even though he was crippled with worry, he fell asleep.

Ron’s dreams were pleasant, right up a scream interrupted the peace. His eyes snapped open at the sound, far too confused to process what the sound was as he woke up. Groggy, Ron sat up and rubbed at his eyes. When he heard a whimper come from the left of him, he cursed himself repeatedly for not realising what was happening.

It was Harry.

“Who’s yelling?” Seamus, Ron’s brain supplied, grumbled.

Ron didn’t answer, because he didn’t get the chance to. He could hear Harry crying, quite softly, behind his curtains. As Ron was getting out of bed, the cries suddenly increased in volume, and Ron was found in an almost identical predicament that he had the night at Grimmauld Place. Whatever was going on in Harry’s nightmare, if he was still asleep even, must have been terrible. Could he be seeing Cedric? Voldemort? Both?

Pulling back Harry’s curtains, he winced at the sight. Harry was once again writhing, his blankets almost off his body, enough for Ron to see the wet patch surrounding his hips. His heart clenched painfully at the sight and how Harry would react when he woke up, but Ron pushed that away for now as he rested both hands on either shoulder like he had before.

“Harry.” Ron shook Harry’s shoulders. “Harry, mate, wake up.”

Unlike the time before, Harry came to much quicker, much to Ron’s relief. Ron barely had time to move out the way before he got headbutted.

He shouted out in pain as he jolted back from the force, hand coming up to clutch at his forehead where Harry had collided with him. He was more worried about Harry, however, and quickly pushed the pain aside to worry about later.

For a moment, Ron thought Harry was going to throw up by the way he was heaving, but thankfully he didn’t. Harry held a hand to his own head, but he seemed to be crying too hard to really notice what had happened. Ron wasn’t even sure if Harry had noticed he’d wet the bed or not yet.

“What’s going on?” Someone, Neville Ron thought it might be, asked.

Ron ignored him and sat down on Harry’s bed, a few inches from where the wet spot began. Resting a hand in the middle of Harry’s upper back, he began to rub slow circles between his shoulder blades, hoping that the touch would be comforting. Harry shuddered beneath his hand, his breaths coming out broken and short.

“Come on, mate.” Ron murmured and slowly got off the bed. To his surprise, Harry’s head snapped towards him, eyes wild with panic as if he thought Ron was going to leave him. He pretended not to notice and continued talking. “Do you want to have a shower?”

Ron knew that the mess could be spelled away, but he didn’t want to freak Harry out by pulling out his wand while he was in such a fragile state. Harry went with him easily, though he seemed to realise what he had done. He’d hidden his face in his hands and stood a little awkwardly when his wet pants clung to his legs.

At that very moment, Ron caught Seamus’ eyes in the darkness. He glared, and Seamus seemed to get the message not to say anything. Seamus, to his credit, did look confused and scared at the same time. Ron couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through his head as he watched the scene play out.

Harry was going to be so embarrassed when he realised that the dorm’s worth of occupants had seen that he’d wet the bed.

Hermione would know what to do in this situation.

For a moment, he considered going to get Hermione, but he changed his mind last second and continued to guide Harry into the bathroom with an arm around his shoulders. With the light on, Ron could only stare at his friend. With the added-on sight of wet pyjama bottoms, Harry looked a lot younger than he was.

“T-this is stupid.” Harry suddenly said, eyebrows furrowed in the now familiar way that showed he was angry. Ron backed away a little, aware that Harry could turn around and yell at him at any moment as he furiously wiped away his tears. The anger didn’t appear to last very long, because Harry seemed to notice that Ron had moved away. He immediately wished he hadn’t done it, because the heartbroken look that came over Harry’s face was something he never wanted to see again. “I’m sorry I’m so d-dirty.”

Ron shook his head. “You’re not dirty, mate. It was just an accident.”

“I d-don’t mean to b-be angry all the time.” Harry reached out and clung onto Ron’s shirt in the same way he had all those weeks ago. “I don’t k-know what’s wrong with me.”

“I know. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Ron clasped Harry’s shoulder. “Have a shower. I’ll fix your bed and clothes.”

When Harry nodded, and with that Ron turned on his heel and headed out of the bathroom.

“Is Harry alright?” Neville asked, sounding worried.

“He will be.” Ron said as he headed over to Harry’s bed. Pulling out his wand, he softly murmured the spell, pleased when it actually worked. Hermione had made him and Harry learn cleaning and repairing spells back in first year, but he hadn’t really had to use it until now.

When Ron went back into the bathroom, Harry’s pyjamas were on the floor and the boy had disappeared into a cubicle. Quickly, Ron performed the same spell, thankful that it worked beautifully both times. Then, he left the bathroom yet again and sat down on his bed. With a grim sigh, he buried his face in his hands for a few moments.

Seamus, Dean and Neville had all laid back down. Dean looked like he had already fallen back asleep.

When Harry emerged from the bathroom almost half an hour later, Ron already had his blankets held out in a silent offer. Harry hesitated, his eyes gazing over the other people in the room, before he curled up in the space Ron had made. Like he had before, he essentially tucked Harry in, then spelled the curtains shut.

“Alright?” Ron asked. Harry had hidden his face in Ron’s shoulder, one arm wrapped around him in a hug. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry shook his head. Ron nodded in acceptance.

Eventually, Harry drifted off, and his body ceased its shaking. Ron laid awake for a while after, just thinking, then managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The next day, when Harry wasn’t around, Ron told Hermione.

“Harry had another one last night.” Ron began. “Well, I think he’s been having them every night, but this one was worse.”

“I noticed he looks tireder than usual.” Hermione frowned. “How bad?”

“The bed-wetting kind.”

Hermione stared at him for a long moment. “Did he?”

Ron nodded.

“We have to tell someone.” Hermione looked like she was about to cry herself. “We can’t just stand by and watch him suffer. We should tell Professor McGonagall.”

“We can’t do it behind his back, Hermione.” Ron shook his head. “He’s so embarrassed about it. I probably shouldn’t have even told you.”

“We don’t have to tell her _that_ part, Ronald. And you know I won’t bring up that unless he does.” Hermione flicked through a few pages of her book, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Maybe we could tell Madam Pomfrey, she could give him some Dreamless Sleep.”

“I still don’t think we should do it behind his back. At least talk to him first. You know how quick to anger he is now.”

“I know.” Hermione pushed her hair behind her ears, then closed the book. “We’ll talk to him about it first, then.”

Ron sighed and gave in. “Fine.”

He had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well.

**3\. June 1996, Hogwarts Express + August 1996, The Burrow**

The air inside the train compartment was tense. No one had really spoken since they boarded, especially Harry, who had fallen asleep leant against the window. Ron couldn’t help but sneak glances at his best friend, whose face was pale and the bags under his eyes were darker than ever.

Ron couldn’t get Harry’s screams out of his head.

He hadn’t seen it happen, he had been hidden behind a rock with the others at the time, but he’d heard Bellatrix yell the unforgiveable. Moments later, Harry had screamed Sirius’ name over and over, and then nothing at all. It had been one, long, brutal scream and Ron couldn’t get the sound out of his head.

Then, he’d watched Harry get possessed.

Ever since, Harry had been more subdued than ever. Within reason, too. But it was… it was terrifying to see his best mate so void of emotion.

Ron couldn’t stand the thought of Harry going back to the Dursley’s, not after everything that had happened. Ron almost went to Dumbledore and demanded that Harry stay with them at the Burrow, but Hermione had talked him out of it. Not because she didn’t care for Harry, for it was a waste of time in itself. Harry had already told them how Dumbledore refused to let Harry stay at Hogwarts in first year.

He had known something was up since he found Harry with bars on his windows in second year, and how skinny he became over the Summer.

Ron hated the Dursleys, and he hated Dumbledore for making Harry go back to them every year when clearly, he wasn’t being cared for properly. Or cared for at all. He wasn’t even sure if they asked Harry how his year went.

After several minutes of being lost in thought, Ron was brought back into reality when he glanced over to Harry and noticed that he had started to twitch in his sleep. He watched his friend for a long moment and saw the way his eyes were rapidly moving back and forth beneath his eyelids. Every now and then, Harry would frown and shift some more, the discomfort clear on his face.

“He’s dreaming, isn’t he?” Hermione asked.

“Looks like it.”

Ron hadn’t witnessed another one of Harry’s dreams since his father was attacked. That night, it had been the worst Ron had ever seen him. Harry _wouldn’t_ wake up.

The boy had writhed, cried, _hissed_ in his sleep, and when he finally did wake, he threw up to the side of his bed. That night, Harry had flinched away from Ron’s touch, eyes haunted as they looked around the room. Soon, Harry, Ron and the rest of his family were crowded into Dumbledore’s office as Harry frantically retold his dream, then screamed at Dumbledore when the man wouldn’t look at him.

He had demanded that his dream had been _real_ , and of course, it had been. Harry had essentially saved Arthur Weasley’s life that night.

Now that Voldemort no longer had a connection with Harry, those kinds of nightmares seemed to have stopped. Ron was sure that instead of the long corridors of the Ministry of Magic, Harry dreamt about his Godfather.

Ron wanted to cry himself, sometimes, when he thought about it. When he awoke to Harry’s laboured breaths each night after that night at the Ministry but couldn’t do anything about it, because each time Harry would refuse his comfort.

His thoughts were abruptly stopped when Harry jolted in his seat. A small noise broke free from him, something akin to a sob, and it tore through Ron’s chest.

As he was thinking over what he should do and if he should wake Harry up, Harry made the choice for him. The raven-haired boy’s eyes had snapped open, filled with fright. For a moment, it looked like he might cry, but the emotion soon faded into nothing as he turned his gaze to the window.

Ron frowned a little as he watched.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked after a few minutes.

“Fine.” Harry’s tone was blunt.

“We’re almost there.” Ron tried to start a conversation. “Would you like to play some chess?”

Harry seemed to think it over. He shook his head, and Ron deflated.

Still, he didn’t let it show. “That’s alright. Hermione?”

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Chess.” Ron stated.

“ _Fine_.” She sighed and rolled her eyes with a soft smile. “This is the only time, though.”

“Whatever.”

With that, Ron and Hermione played chess for the rest of the trip back to Kings Cross Station, hoping that Harry would involve himself. He didn’t, as expected, and kept his gaze locked on the window. If he was really seeing the world around him, Ron didn’t know, but he also didn’t know how to be there for Harry this time.

When they arrived, Harry showed his first emotion in hours. He had been stood by the Weasley’s, barely showing a reaction to Ron’s mother who had smothered him in hugs. Ron saw the way she frowned, cupped Harry’s pale cheek, then kissed his forehead. Harry flinched a little, but Ron could see the way he leant into the touch afterwards.

Ron saw the Dursleys immediately. They were stood off to the side, not even looking at Harry, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Harry’s cousin scowled at nothing in particular and seemed to be openly complaining to Harry’s aunt. The three of them looked terribly out of place, and Ron wanted nothing more than to throw a hex at them.

When Harry saw them, the panic was obvious. It flashed over his face, and Ron immediately raised a hand to cup his friend’s elbow. Harry looked at him in the eye for the first time since they’d left Hogwarts, eyes filled with an emotion that Ron couldn’t decipher.

“We can sneak you into the Burrow.” Ron suggested with a small smile.

Harry didn’t smile, but he shifted a little closer. Hermione was now stood on Harry’s other side, her parents watching on.

“We’ll both write to you.” Hermione held Harry’s hand. “Right, Ron?”

“Obviously.” Ron nudged Harry a little with his elbow. “You’ll write back, won’t you?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded. “’Course.”

“I have to go now.” Hermione frowned a little. “I’ll see you at the Burrow just before term starts, yes, Harry?”

“Yes.”

Hermione offered Harry one of her beautiful smiles before she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. The hug lasted a long time, Ron wasn’t sure who was the one who didn’t want to let go, but eventually, Hermione pulled back and cupped Harry’s cheeks.

“See you soon, Harry.” Hermione smiled. “ _Write to me._ ”

“I will.”

Hermione came to Ron next and surprised him with a hug. “See you, Ronald.”

“Bye, ‘Mione.”

With that, she was gone.

“Boy!” A loud yell echoed around the platform. Ron saw Harry stiffen. “It is time to go.”

“Oh.” Harry muttered, then turned to Ron. “I guess I better…”

“You’ll be alright, mate.” Ron smiled, though it felt forced. He didn’t want Harry to go with them. “See you at the end of summer?”

“Yes.” Harry’s replies were short.

Ron couldn’t help but wrap his friend up in a tight hug, who surprisingly, returned it with equally as much force. Ron could see his mother’s worried stare over Harry’s shoulders, along with the twin’s oddly concerned gazes, before he reluctantly pulled back from Harry.

Harry now had a glassy look to his eyes.

“Bye, Ron.” Harry stepped back and grabbed his trunk. “Bye, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Goodbye, Harry. Do write us letters, we would all love to hear from you.”

“I will, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Good, good. Now off you go, dear.”

With that, Harry headed over to his relatives, and the Weasley’s went in the opposite direction.

Ron felt sick.

-

Harry’s surprise appearance at the Burrow was a pleasant shock.

He looked a little better than the last time Ron had seen him, but he was skinnier, and those bags were still under his eyes. However, Harry was _smiling_ when he embraced Ginny, then Hermione, and Ron himself. Ron hadn’t seen Harry’s smile in a long time, and he couldn’t help but beam back at his friend.

Days pass, things are okay. Harry smiles, not too often, but he smiles. Ron isn’t woken up at all during the night, and he almost wondered if the nightmares had ceased. Which was pretty stupid to think, on his part, but he had been happy that his friend was finally smiling again.

Things had been going well with Harry at the Burrow until Harry stumbled down the stairs hours after he’d gone to bed. It had been odd in the first place, since it had only been around eight-thirty when Harry declared he was tired, but no one questioned it. Harry had looked tired, but the behaviour was a little strange.

Now, he hovered at the bottom of the stairs, sweat noticeably clinging to his frame as his eyes flickered around the room in that manic way.

It was only Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny and Ron downstairs, as the adults had retreated to their rooms an hour or ago. They had been arguing over a game of exploding snap when Harry appeared, and each of them had fallen silent as they waited for him to say something.

Harry, eventually, began to walk over to the group. Ron immediately scooted over to free some space for his friend, which seemed to be the exact thing to do. Harry sat down between him and Hermione, and now that the boy was closer, Ron could see and feel the way he was trembling.

“I don’t feel well.” Harry muttered when the group went back to the game.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked. “Do you want me to get Mum?”

Harry only shook his head, then let out a heavy, shaky sigh. Before Ron could ask any more questions, Harry seemed to slump, and appeared to lose all his energy as he fell sideways into Ron. Ron paused for a moment before he wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry rested his head on Ron’s shoulder, his body trembling so much it made Ron want to cry. Hermione grabbed a blanket that had been resting on the arm of the couch and bundled it around Harry, who barely reacted aside from pressing closer to Ron. There was no telling if the shivering was due to being cold or the aftershocks of a nightmare.

“Would you like to play a round, Harrykins?” George asked after a while. “It would be nice to have some actual competition.”

Fred and Ginny let out sounds of indignation at the words, but George paid no mind as he stared at Harry. Predictably, Harry shook his head.

“That’s all right. Maybe you can help Ronniekins.”

“Sod off.” Ron snapped with no heat.

From there, they played a few more rounds, Harry remaining a heavy weight against Ron’s side. Thankfully, the trembling stopped, and Ron later realised that Harry had fallen asleep. He only noticed when their last game ended, when Hermione’s gaze had softened as she rubbed Harry’s shoulder.

Ginny and the twins headed up to bed, which left Ron, Hermione and Harry alone.

“I think we should tell Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione began. “He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Could you go and get her?”

Hermione nodded and immediately disappeared up the stairs. Ron just pulled Harry closer, hoping he was having good dreams instead of bad dreams. Harry shifted a little at the movement, but otherwise didn’t react and continued to sleep on.

“Ron? What is the matter?” His mother’s quiet voice broke through the silence.

“It’s Harry, Mum.” Ron replied. “He came down and said he wasn’t feeling well.”

His mother made a small noise of sympathy as she knelt down in front of Ron and Harry, then reached up to hold a hand to the teen’s forehead. Hermione reclaimed her spot and watched on with her usual worried gaze.

“Harry, dear?” Ron wanted to tell his Mum to stop, because Harry barely ever slept soundly like this, but his retort was cut off immediately by the glare he received. “Harry? Can you wake up for me?”

Harry shifted a little, and from the angle he was subjected to, Ron couldn’t see his friend’s eyes. So, he waited for a reaction from Hermione or his mother. Harry mustn’t have woken up, because it took another two tries before Harry jolted into awareness.

“What’s…” Harry mumbled groggily. “What’s happening?”

“Ron told me you weren’t feeling well.” Ron’s mother began, her tone caring. “You do feel a bit hot.”

“I’m fine.” Harry muttered predictably. “Really.”

“Why don’t you three head up to bed?” Mum waited for each of them to nod. “If you’re still feeling unwell tomorrow, do not hesitate to let me know, alright, Harry?”

“Okay.” Harry murmured. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, dear. Now Ron, help Harry upstairs.”

Hermione parted with them and disappeared into Ginny’s room with a quiet goodnight.

Harry didn’t even protest that he could get up the stairs by himself. He just let Ron lead him up the stairs and into the bedroom, then over to his bed. Harry slumped over, eyes already closing, looking more exhausted than Ron had ever seen him. Whatever was going on in his head must be taking its toll.

“Goodnight.” Ron said once he had gone through his normal routine. He glanced over at Harry, who was still awake, but was staring at the roof with his glasses still on. “Um… are you sure you’re alright?”

Ron didn’t think Harry was going to answer until he heard the almost-silent sentence.

“I just really miss him.”

“I’m sorry.” He had no idea what to say.

“It’s my fault.” Harry’s breath hitched. “If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t been so bloody _stupid_ -”

“It’s not your fault.” Ron cut Harry off. “You didn’t know.”

“But you and Hermione did.” Harry choked again. “If only I had listened… if only I had listened to Cedric when he told me to take the cup. He’d still be here. Sirius would still be here if I listened to you and Hermione. All these people keep dying for _me_.”

“None of this is your fault, Harry.” His own voice wavered as he spoke. In the midst of all the chaos, Ron had almost forgotten about what had happened in their fourth year. “You couldn’t have known about the cup being a portkey, and neither did Cedric. And Sirius… he was important to you. I understand you didn’t want to take the chance. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is, Ron!” Harry nearly yelled. The sudden noise startled him, and after a moment of silence, he sat up and looked over at Harry. Harry, who was now almost hyperventilating, his gaze still locked on the ceiling. “I made C-Cedric come w-with m-me. He’s d-dead because of me! Sirius…”

“Harry…” He hesitated. “You can’t keep bottling up your emotions like this. It’s _okay_.”

Harry made some sort of strangled noise and slapped his hands over his face. Then, he yanked his glasses off and tossed them onto the bedside table. Well, the intended target was the bedside table, but they ended up on the floor.

“Just come over here, Harry.” It came out sort of like a demand, but Harry didn’t seem to notice. Ron watched his friend sit up; the internal battle clear on the boy’s face. His shoulders were jolting in that now familiar way that meant he was still trying to hold everything back. “You don’t have to hide it from me. I’m your best friend.”

Whether it be the words, or the way Ron’s voice cracked, he didn’t know, but it seemed to send Harry over the edge. The boy pulled back his covers, got out of bed and stumbled over to Ron, who had already moved over.

Within seconds, Harry was sobbing into his chest, whimpering various apologies as Ron rubbed his back. Since the first time Ron had seen Harry have a nightmare, he hoped he’d gotten better at comforting his friend.

Unlike other times, Harry didn’t stop crying. He didn’t stop crying until he cried himself out, which ended up being that he cried himself to sleep.

Without Harry awake to see him, Ron let a few tears of his own slip. If he was honest, he was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the problems his best friend faced every day, the rise of Voldemort and what effects it might have on the new school year. Just… _everything_.

Eventually, in a similar fashion to Harry, Ron cried himself to sleep as well.

**4\. March 1997, Hogwarts Hospital Wing**

Getting poisoned was something Ron wished he could have avoided.

He was tired and confused when he came to, and all he could do was stare up at the roof as he collected his thoughts. What happened after he drank was a mystery to him, and it took him a few more minutes to realise there was a weight in his hand. When he looked to his left, Hermione sat on the bed beside him, her hand in his.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, eyes filled with concern as she looked down at him.

Ron shrugged and shifted a little, his body heavy. “What happened?”

“You were poisoned.” Hermione replied. “No one knows who did it. The bottle was supposed to go to Dumbledore… Harry saved your life.”

“Harry?” Ron questioned. “Where is he?”

Hermione jutted her head to Ron’s right. He turned his head with some effort, and was surprised to see Harry hunched over, his head resting on his arms just by Ron’s right arm. He was asleep. How hadn’t he noticed Harry was there when he first woke up?

“Ron…” Hermione trailed. “Look at his wrist.”

Just visible from the angle Ron was reclined at, he could see where Harry’s long sleeve pulled back. His breath hitched when he noticed three thin, red lines. Cuts.

“Madam Pomfrey saw them.” Hermione continued when he didn’t say anything. “She’s going to talk to Harry when he wakes up. Did you… did you know?”

“No.” Ron couldn’t stop looking at the red lines peeking from Harry’s sleeve. “I didn’t.”

“Harry’s been really worried about you. He hasn’t left since you got here.” Hermione sounded incredibly sad. She gripped Ron’s hand tighter as they both looked over their sleeping friend, at a loss of what to do. “I’m worried about him, Ron.”

“How didn’t I notice…” Ron couldn’t believe he’d been so oblivious. Yes, lately, Harry’s been smiling more. Engaging more, letting Ron and Hermione comfort him when he needed it. He had thought Harry was doing well, despite the odd obsession he had with Malfoy. He’d even taken an interest in Ginny, much to Ron’s discomfort. “I thought he was doing well.”

“So did I.” Hermione’s breath hitched. “We have to talk to him about it.”

“Yeah.”

They fell into silence. Madam Pomfrey bustled by some time later, handing Ron all kinds of potions and asking him questions. Ron answered all of them while drinking what he was told to, thankful that they actually made him feel better. However, his gaze always fell back to his best friend, who slept on.

Madam Pomfrey also looked at Harry with worry, and even rubbed his back for a few moments before she disappeared into her office.

Hours pass, Hermione and Harry stay with him. Harry comes to just moments before Hermione is planning on waking him, and his gaze is panicked. Harry sat up straight, chest heaving as he stared at Ron.

“I’m okay, Harry.” Ron didn’t know what to do. “I’m fine.”

Harry all but flung himself into Ron in a desperate hug. He gasped, a little winded, but wound his arms around Harry’s torso. After a few minutes, Harry pulled back and sat back down, one hand still resting on the bed.

“I thought you died.” Harry choked out; his breaths laboured. “I thought… I thought you…”

“I’m fine.” Ron tried to reassure his friend. “I promise.”

Harry didn’t seem to hear him. His breaths became even sharper, and shorter, and soon he was clawing at his chest as if he couldn’t breathe. Ron watched on in horror as Harry whimpered, Hermione having dashed around the bed to sit beside Harry and take a hold of his hand. Ron watched her wince at the white-knuckle grip Harry inflicted on her hand as he hyperventilated.

“Harry, you need to calm down.” Hermione sounded panicked herself, and Harry just shook his head and made a strangled noise. “Ron’s safe, Harry. He’s alright.”

“What on earth is going on?” Madam Pomfrey tore out of her office and over to the trio. For a moment, she just watched Harry struggle, before realisation dawned on her face. She moved to Harry’s other side, which blocked half of Ron’s view of his friend. This caused him to sit up so he could see what was happening. “Mr. Potter, you need to breathe. You’re having a panic attack right now. Try and copy my breaths, alright?”

After a while, Harry followed through with the command. It felt like hours before Harry was breathing normally again, aside from a few sudden sharp breaths every now and then. Now, Harry simply stared at his hands.

“Drink this.” Madam Pomfrey offered Harry a potion. He took it without complaint. “Now, Mr. Potter, I feel like we have something to discuss with you.”

“Why?” Harry questioned. “R-Ron…”

“Ron is going to fully recover.”

“Yeah, mate. I’m going to be fine.” Ron interjected in the hopes of bringing Harry back into himself. It did nothing. “Really, Harry. I’m okay.”

“Harry.” Madam Pomfrey paused. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” There came the automatic response.

“I’ve noticed there are some marks on your arms.” Madam Pomfrey’s tone was careful. Harry froze, then let go of Hermione’s hand and crossed his arms, back hunched. “We all care about you and want you to be safe and happy. Are you hurting yourself?”

Harry didn’t react for the longest time, before he spoke so silently Ron nearly didn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you come with me for a few moments?” Madam Pomfrey offered, and Harry complied. Ron watched them leave, before he sighed and hid his face in his hands for a few moments. Hermione just sat there with teary eyes, watching him.

Ron didn’t see Harry again until he was out of the hospital wing. He was almost crippled with worry as he made his way to the common room, hoping that Hermione or Harry especially would still be awake. Thankfully, as he stepped through the portrait hole, he saw the familiar forms of his friends sat by the fire.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked when Ron sat down across from the pair. Harry was slightly slumped into her, their hands grasped tight together. Harry didn’t even look at him, his gaze seemingly directed to the fire.

“Good.” Ron smiled, despite the pain he felt looking at Harry.

“How are you, Harry?” He then asked, which finally caught Harry’s attention. The boy looked at him, eyes filled with sadness and guilt, before he looked at his lap instead. Hermione rubbed his knuckles with her thumb as they waited for a response.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Was the first thing Harry said. “I didn’t know how.”

“I’m not mad.” Ron stated. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t want you to.” Harry shrugged.

“How… how long?”

Harry paused. “Since the start of the school year, but... a little when I was with the Dursleys. On my legs.”

Ron nodded.

Silence stretched on; Ron unsure what to say. He seemed to feel like that a lot lately.

Eventually, they made their way up to the dorms, Hermione splitting off from them. She bid them both goodnights, a sad smile on her face, before she disappeared up the stairs. Ron followed Harry up, and neither of them said anything when Harry disappeared into the bathroom.

It was almost similar to the night that Harry wet the bed in fifth year, but now Ron was terrified of what was happening on the other side of the door. When Harry remerged, his eyes were wet, and he looked regretful.

Ron tried not to notice, not wanting to pressure Harry to speak about it, especially since they were sharing a dorm with other people. So, all he did was clench Harry’s shoulder when he walked past, with the silent promise to be there for him no matter what. If Harry got the message, Ron wouldn’t know.

Once he was finished, he returned to the dorm to see Harry sat on his bed. Ron didn’t say anything and let his friend cling onto him once the curtains were drawn. After a while, Harry started to speak.

“I can’t lose anyone else.” The words were quiet.

Ron wished to say he wouldn’t, but with the upcoming war, he couldn’t be so sure.

“I know.” He decided to say. “I’m fine. ‘Mione’s fine. We’re alright.”

“I can’t help it.” Ron noticed that Harry had started picking at his sleeve, a habit he’d adopted… since the start of the school year. How hadn’t Ron noticed? “I want to stop… but…”

“It’s alright.” Ron shushed him. “No one is angry with you for it. I promise. We want to help. You’re my best friend, and I love you. I’m sorry if I never told you that before.”

Harry didn’t respond. He just clung on tighter and let out a shaky sigh.

Just before Ron drifted into unconsciousness, he heard Harry’s reply.

“I love you too. And… thanks.”

Ron just squeezed his friend tighter in return.

**5\. June 1997, Gryffindor Tower**

_“I can’t lose anyone else.”_

The words echoed in his head as he stood outside of the bathroom door, contemplating what he should do. Seamus, Dean and Neville also sat in the room, the air heavy with grief and tension, as they watched Ron try not to bash the door down. They all had tears in their eyes, and so did Ron.

The Headmaster was dead. Death Eaters had broken into Hogwarts.

When Harry had warned Ron and Hermione that Death Eaters might try and break in, Ron hadn’t wanted to believe it. It was only when news broke out that the Headmaster had been killed that Ron believed that this was all real, that the war was real.

Ever since his fourth year, or maybe even third year, the war had been a thought in the back of everyone’s mind. Ron had always thought about it in a hypothetical sense, because he never really thought about what might happen when the war reallyarrived.

Harry had known, always known. He hadn’t been the same since the third task, especially when Voldemort was in his head. Even then, Ron hadn’t thought the war would really happen.

Long story short, he was terrified. Everyone was terrified.

However, the upcoming war was hardly a thought in his head as he stared at the locked bathroom door in front of him.

Harry had locked himself in, and Ron couldn’t help the panic that consumed him. He called out, knocked, but there was no response. After almost five or so minutes of waiting, which was both a really short and long period of time, he couldn’t do it anymore. He whispered _Alohomora_ and cracked open the door, scared of what he might see, scared that he might have waited too long.

There had been a similar situation right after Harry almost killed Malfoy. That night had been one of the worst of Ron’s life.

Harry was, thankfully, _alive_ , but had wedged himself underneath one of the sinks. His sleeves were drawn, there was no signs of blood, and the only thing that Ron could see wrong with his friend was that he was crying.

“Harry?” Ron questioned as he carefully stepped into the room. He shut the door behind him before he advanced over to his friend, who didn’t look at him. Ron wasn’t sure if the boy had even heard him. “Harry, mate?”

Harry didn’t make a sound. He was crying, yes, but it was so silent Ron wouldn’t have known if he couldn’t see the falling tears.

Ron knelt down in front of Harry and tried to meet his eye. Harry curled further into himself, knees pulled tight to his chest. Right now, he looked so much younger than he was. It was like a child, the eleven-year-old that Ron had met all those years ago, rather than a sixteen, almost seventeen-year-old.

“Harry.” Ron said again. “It’d be better if you came out from under there.”

Harry refused, but let Ron cup his elbow without a flinch.

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now.” Ron requested, keeping his voice low.

“I w-want to…” Harry trailed. Ron knew what he wanted to say, from the way Harry’s face broke. He squeezed Harry’s elbow and shuffled a little closer. “He’s dead. I watched Snape- I couldn’t do _anything._ ”

“I know.” Ron winced. “I’m sorry.”

Harry didn’t say anything else, but when Ron pulled gently on his elbow, he complied. Ron let Harry come out at his own pace, realising with a pounding heart that Harry might’ve hid underneath the sinks because the space was small, like the cupboard under the stairs.

Soon enough, Harry had shuffled out of his hiding spot and toward Ron, who stood. Harry followed his lead, his eyes lingering on the mirror.

“Come on.” Ron wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You should go to bed.”

Harry didn’t refuse, so Ron lead him out of the bathroom and ignored the other three boys in the room.

Soon enough, like most other times Harry was in distress late hours into the night, they were both curled up in Ron’s bed with the curtains drawn. Harry’s tears had ceased, though he had begun picking at his left wrist. Before he could do any real damage, Ron took his friend’s hand and held it tight in his own.

When he looked for Harry’s reaction, he just looked defeated. Then, he shut his eyes.

None of them slept well that night. Three times Ron was awoken by Harry, who had nightmares every time he went to sleep. By morning, both of them were exhausted, and it was obvious that Harry felt guilty for continuing to wake Ron up.

Harry didn’t even get out of bed. He remained curled into the blankets, eyes closed, though he looked pained. Ron could see the other boys casting worried glances over to him as they packed, Ron doing the same. Without a word, he packed Harry’s trunk for him, hoping that he was actually asleep and not pretending.

Eventually, Harry rose from the bed on his own accord. Ron waited in the dorms, trying not to worry because he knew it wouldn’t make Harry feel good. However, when the boy returned, he looked thankful that Ron had stayed.

The rest of the day was bleak. After finding out the Horcrux was fake, they got on the train and headed back to Kings Cross.

Like the end of fifth year, their goodbyes were sad, if not more so.

Ron, yet again, didn’t like the fact that Harry had to go back to the Dursleys after something so traumatic, but there was nothing he could do. It pained him, but he said goodbye all the same, and watched his friend head over to his relatives with a frown.

Ron went home feeling empty.

**+1 (6) October – December 1997, Forest of Dean**

“Ron, please!” Hermione yelled as she tore out of the tent after Ron, who had already reached the top of the hill. Tears welled up in her eyes as she chased after her friend, panic having grasped her heart in a chokehold as she tried to catch up. “Ron, wait!”

Ron didn’t answer, and Hermione grew desperate.

“Ron, _stop_! We need you. _Harry_ needs you; you know that!”

Hermione had noticed, ever since the beginning of their fifth year, that Harry had grown somewhat dependent on Ron.

It had become clear to her after the night Harry stumbled down the stairs at the Burrow, and when Ron had gotten poisoned. Hermione couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through Harry’s head right now as she chased after Ron, who had stopped at the mention of Harry.

She had seen the hurt on Harry’s face when Ron yelled insults at him. Then, the anger when they fought. He hadn’t seen the look on his face after she dashed after Ron, but she just knew it would be something akin to heartbreak.

“Please, Ron, you didn’t mean what you were saying. Harry knows that. He needs you more than he needs me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Why would he when he has you? Why would any of you need me when you clearly have each other.”

Before Hermione could respond, Ron was gone. Hermione stood in the clearing, jaw slack, before the tears finally broke free and trickled down her cheeks. She stood there for a long time, contemplating running further after Ron, but she couldn’t forget about Harry. Harry, who was still in the tent, alone.

Unless he too had run away. Hermione didn’t know what she would do if that happened.

With one last look to the clearing Ron had disappeared from, Hermione wiped her eyes and began the trek back to the tent. She stood outside for a moment to collect herself, though the tears continued to flow even when she stepped through the flap.

Hermione’s eyes found Harry immediately. He was sat on his bed, sleeve pulled back. For a panicked second, Hermione thought he might have relapsed, but when she got closer, she noted there were no new cuts. Harry had the blade from his razor poised over his skin, but it seemed he was just staring at the scars.

The sight made Hermione want to sob, but she held it in and carefully made her way over to Harry. Without a word, she sat down and reached out, then gently pried the blade from his fingers. Harry let her take it, his hand falling limp at his side as he continued to stare at his arm.

Then, Harry sniffed and ran his fingers over his scarred skin. Hermione watched with a hand over her mouth, trying to hold in her own pain as she watched Harry suffer. He had that look on his face where Hermione could tell he wanted to break. Hermione also knew she wasn’t the person that Harry wanted most of all, whether that be his parents, Sirius, or Ron.

“I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Hermione took Harry’s hand, her wrist resting atop of Harry’s scarred one. “It was the Horcrux. You weren’t thinking straight, and neither was Ron. He’ll come back.”

Hermione didn’t know if her last statement was true. She had no idea where Ron would have gotten to by now, or if he’d ever come back. If he never came back… Hermione wouldn’t know what to do.

“You’re crying.” Harry stated when he looked up. Hermione couldn’t look at him in the eye because of how much pain she saw in them. She only flinched slightly when Harry wiped away some of her tears, before he rested his head on her shoulder. It almost mirrored the position they’d been in when Hermione had seen Ron kiss Lavender, but this time Harry wasn’t just the one comforting her. This time, it went both ways. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

“I tried.” Hermione’s breath hitched on a sob. “But he wouldn’t listen.”

Hermione felt Harry nod. She rested her head on top of his and shut her eyes.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Eventually, they separated to their beds, and all Hermione could do was watch as Harry’s shoulders shook with silent sobs.

She didn’t fall asleep until Harry did, and hoped he wouldn’t do anything to himself before she woke.

-

Hermione was startled out of her dream from someone shaking her awake.

She sat up quickly and almost reached for her wand in the blind panic, but when she realised who was standing over her, she aborted that thought immediately.

Harry stood above her, shoulders shaking violently.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” She asked as she pulled her covers back.

“I d-didn’t mean to.” Harry was distraught enough that he almost fell over, and Hermione didn’t hesitate to have him sit down on her bed. He heaved again and let out another sob that made Hermione’s heart shatter. “I’m s-sorry, I c-couldn’t help it.”

Hermione cursed herself for taking this long to realise what had happened. Once there was light, her eyes immediately found the source of Harry’s pain. His sleeve was pulled up to his elbow, and three jagged, red cuts stared up at her. Thin lines of blood trickled down Harry’s hand, and Hermione’s stomach turned at the sight. Harry wasn’t looking at her, so she let herself openly react to what she was seeing. Then, her eyes welled with tears, and all she could do was bring Harry into her arms and let him cry into her shoulder.

“Would you like me to clean them?” Hermione asked as Harry’s cries started to slow down. When she felt a nod, she gently extracted herself from Harry’s iron grip and grabbed her wand. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Harry made a strangled noise at her words, and she tried not to react as she began to clean the blood away. She didn’t heal the wounds, because she knew Harry wouldn’t appreciate it if she did. Harry had explained to her and Ron one night in sixth year that he wanted to keep the scars, and neither of them had questioned why.

Once most of the blood was cleared away, Hermione grabbed a few bandages off of the bedside table and gently wound them around Harry’s trembling wrist. Once she was finished, she took a hold of Harry’s hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“N-nightmare.” Harry breathed out; a lot calmer than he had been when he woke her up.

“What about?” Hermione asked, ready to abort on the question if Harry didn’t want to answer. For a moment, it looked like he might, before he let out another shaky sigh and squeezed her hand tighter.

“Cedric.” Hermione nodded, pained at the memory of Cedric’s smiling face. If she was honest, she hadn’t really thought about Cedric since fifth year, as bad as it sounded. There had been so much going on, being that Sirius had just… and then Dumbledore in sixth year… It hurt her to think that Cedric was still a main protagonist in Harry’s nightmares years later. “And… Sirius and Dumbledore. I saw them die again.”

“I’m sorry.” Hermione squeezed his hand.

Harry shuddered when he spoke again. “I c-couldn’t do anything to save them, ‘Mione.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.”

“I saw Ron, too.” Hermione felt her muscles tense involuntarily. “I saw him die.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. She just pulled Harry back into her arms and let Harry curl into her, her face now pressed into his shoulder as they laid down.

“I’m scared.” Harry said after a while, voice trembling with anxiety. “What if I can’t do it?”

“Do what?”

“Save us.”

“Don’t think about that now.” Hermione held Harry just a bit tighter. “You should sleep.”

Harry didn’t seem to protest. They fell into silence, and once again, the comfort was going both ways.

Hermione found herself crying again once Harry had drifted off, wishing that this wasn’t their life, that they could go through their seven years at Hogwarts without the war looming over their heads. She wished they didn’t have to grow up so quickly, she wished that Harry didn’t have to suffer so much loss and pressure from the Wizarding World.

Hermione wished their lives were normal.

She also wished that Ron would come back, so it was the three of them again. Hermione missed him so much it hurt, and she could tell it was the same for Harry.

She was terrified of the future. Terrified that one, if not all of them, could die. That Voldemort could win.

Instead of dwelling on the dark thoughts further, Hermione shut her eyes and tried to sleep.

When unconsciousness took over, her own dreams were ridden with nightmares.

-

Hermione knew that after the first time Harry relapsed, he hadn’t stopped. Sometimes, she could tell when he wanted to, and would direct his attention to something else and take his hand in hers. Sometimes, he got that slightly manic look in his eye, and Hermione would just hold him in her arms and continue to wish that their lives were different.

When Harry disappeared one night in late December, Hermione had been worried beyond belief. When he returned in the morning with Ron, the Sword of Gryffindor and a destroyed Horcrux, Hermione found that she was both angry and relieved.

Relieved, that Harry hadn’t done something to himself. Angry, that Ron was there, smiling stupidly at her as if he hadn’t caused both her and Harry so much pain.

So, Hermione lashed out. Ron seemed surprised, and Harry fiddled with his sleeve as he watched.

That night, when Harry had fallen asleep, Hermione turned to Ron.

“Harry relapsed while you were gone.” Hermione began. Ron faltered; eyes filled with guilt. “Don’t say anything unless he tells you. How could you be so stupid, Ron? Why would you leave us like that?”

“I’m sorry.” Ron shifted awkwardly; hands clasped together. “The Horcrux… I didn’t mean to make Harry…”

“You didn’t make him do anything.” Hermione shook her head. “I’m not blaming you. He’s been under a lot of stress, he’s still having nightmares… it became too much, I think. He was terrified that you’d died, which most likely added onto the pressure he’s feeling right now.”

“I feel awful.” Ron sighed. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Hermione agreed, then relaxed her shoulders and leant forwards. She took Ron’s hand in hers. “But you’re back now, and we need to move forward if we’re going to help Harry.”

“Alright.” Ron smiled just slightly; eyes teary. “But I am really sorry, Hermione.”

“I know.”

They sat like that for a while, huddled together, before they retreated to their own beds.

Hermione woke up to the familiar sounds of Harry’s nightmares, but before she could do anything, Ron had gotten out of bed and headed over to their friends’ side of the tent. Hermione watched on quietly and could see the relief on Harry’s face when he saw Ron next to him.

That night, Hermione heard Harry tell Ron about the cutting.

There was no telling what was going to happen in the upcoming war, whether they’d make it out alive or not. If they’d find all the Horcruxes, even. Hermione had no idea what to expect, but in that moment, she was just grateful that she and her friends were all together. The three of them, just like it had been since Halloween of first year.

Harry would be alright. Hermione knew he would be, in time. When the war was over.

That night, Hermione fell asleep content.

On the other side of the room, Harry did the same, for the first time since the day of the third task in fourth year.

**Author's Note:**

> i love ron ok


End file.
